The backlash, sarcasm, and anger was unexpected. Went to bed with it. Woke up to it. His emails yesterday stung so I ignored his call this morning but it was followed up by a text that stung a little more. He was calling me out without calling me out.

I sat on his words for a while then wrote a long text back. Told him a story then apologized for whatever pain I’d caused by my actions or inactions. Said I wished him no ill will, that I loved him as a brother and only wished him peace. I called myself out without calling myself out.

He left me alone for the remainder of the day, with only a few one line communications required for my input. I’m not a good writer but if writing with only my heart it’s often impactful enough to leave the reader silent and speechless. I don’t know if it’s good or bad to get that reaction and because a heart bared is a heart vulnerable, the day has moved slowly, working to cover it again.

No pleasure was taken in the fight nor any rest offered after the bell has rung. I’m spent and disheartened with my illiterate buy-in to illusion’s oft mesmerizing graffiti.

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